


all i want is your love

by collieflower



Series: *gasps* kozu ! >:o [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Basically, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hinata is here in spirit, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou Friendship, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, They're In Love Your Honor, Twitch Streamer Kozume Kenma, YouTuber Kozume Kenma, despite what twitter thinks kenma is very fond of bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collieflower/pseuds/collieflower
Summary: "He's exhausting," he told the camera earnestly once, but his tone was warm, posture open and fuck, the look in his eyes was embarrassing. So much pride held for his boyfriend. Koutaru had worked so hard to get where he was, and that was more than a little awe-inspiring.To him, the video was a disgustingly sweet tell of his attachment to Bokuto.To the rest of Twitter, the apparent professional relationship between Kozume Kenma and Bokuto Koutaru had been slashed apart, burned, and buried in the woods.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma
Series: *gasps* kozu ! >:o [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019937
Comments: 26
Kudos: 234
Collections: One shots





	all i want is your love

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a simple man, i repot my stevia, and i finish the fic that's been sitting in my au doc for weeks while munching the harvested stevia leaves. end of story.

The first time Bokuto and Kenma met alone, devoid of Kuroo, and Akaashi, and tiny blots of sunshine, was after Kenma’s graduation.

Bokuto could have counted on his hand the amount of texts Kenma willingly sent him before calling him up that day.

“Bokuto, do you do many sponsorships?”

It was a give and take, the professional relationship of _Kozume Kenma and Bokuto Koutarou._ Kenma’s company, Bouncing Ball, kept a close eye on Bokuto’s career, helped it along when they could — and Bokuto… well god knew that his image had done plenty to help popularity and sales along.

It was a beautiful relationship.

Lunch meetings discussing contracts and possible future ventures could have easily been taken care of over the phone, or by a member of staff, but Kenma always personally took care of things with him. A personal touch was always a good thing, when building professional relationships, he’d heard.

It was like natural progression, when Bokuto asked him out to dinner. To catch up and decompress, he said, like they hadn’t been meeting bi-weekly for months. They took dinner, and the conversation was easy in the way Kenma would never have expected from Bokuto. He liked listening to Bokuto’s stories, watching him talk with his hands in grand movements.

He realized, not quite for the first time, how much he liked Bokuto.

The dinners continued, spliced with hand-in-hand walks in the park, or quiet nights in where Bokuto picked the movie and Kenma half-watched from where his face was shoved into Bokuto’s chest, eyes on his handheld.

He hadn’t told Kuroo, yet. He was kind of dreading it. Because Kuroo would get obnoxious and all smarmy because Kenma had kept it a secret. And then he would want to know the details. _When did_ **_this_ ** _happen?!_ he’d demand. Kenma didn’t know, really. It just sort of tumbled into his lap, new and unexpected.

Maybe he ought to make Bokuto tell him.

No, he stamped that thought out quick. Kuroo would call him in an even _worse_ state, bowing up worse than Shouyo when he felt even slightly underestimated. Kenma would have to tell him himself, there was no way around it.

But things were new, and Kenma figured that they deserved a little bit of time to themselves before they made things known. It was going to be tough enough announcing it to their friends, let alone the speculation that was going to come along from Kenma’s fans. If they noticed any change in him or his attitude of late, there was little he could see.

Sooner than later, they would tell their friends. For now, he and Bokuto lived in a comfortable little bubble that Kenma was content to keep up.

-

The sneeze startled Kuroo into sitting straight. Kenma looked at him through bleary eyes before he tossed the tissue.

This was the sixth day of this. Bedridden and feverish, up to his neck in tissues, and soups his friends had decided to drop by with.

Kuroo had been here for an hour or so, a mask over his face. The text that preluded his arrival declared that he was coming to clean the house. Kenma hadn’t seen that text until he’d arrived and let himself into the house, so he didn’t exactly have the opportunity to tell Kuroo that he’d been beaten to it.

Shouyo had dropped by with the exact same pretense. He and Bokuto, who had been playing sicknurse most of the week, had been up and down the entire house until Kenma was sure they could perform surgery on his living room floor without worry for infection.

Kenma had to kick them out after too long, though. He could barely juggle such big personalities on a good day, rather than one where his entire body ached from head to toe.

He’d barely gotten an hour’s nap before Kuroo appeared. He’d just been keeping Kenma company so far, since his self-assigned task had been yanked away from him. He slid his phone in his pocket before standing up. “Do you need anything? When’s the last time you’ve eaten.”

Kenma shrugged, throwing the blankets off of him. “This morning, probably.” He couldn’t remember, but he was pretty sure there was a bowl of oatmeal _some_ time earlier that day.

“I’ll get something, you don’t have to get up,” Kuroo told him. Kenma didn’t have to see under the mask to tell that he was frowning. “No need to agitate the patient.”

“I have to pee,” he deadpanned. “Unless you’re going to change a bedpan—”

Kuroo snorted. “No, no, by all means.” He waved a hand to the ensuite. “I’ll grab you something to eat while you do your business. Unless you need help?”

Kenma glared death at him before shuffling to the bathroom.

True to his word, but the time Kenma had relieved himself, washed his face, and was all settled back into bed, Kuroo was back with food and a bottle of water that Kenma was forced to drink at least half of.

He sighed, sinking back into his pillows, cradling his soup. He dragged a box of tissues along with him, and every once in a while, he had to sniffle into a tissue when his nose threatened to drip.

“Kenma,” Kuroo mused after a while, looking him up and down from where he sat by Kenma’s desk.

Kenma started right back, bowl half-raised to his mouth. “Tetsurou.”

“Isn’t that BB merch?” He pointed at Kenma’s chest, his chopsticks secure in his fist. He kept lifting his mask to eat, but put it right back down again, and Kenma didn’t know why he didn’t just eat on the balcony instead. It would save him all this effort.

It all came back to that “keeping Kenma company,” business.

Kenma hummed the affirmative, looking down to the black shirt pooling around him. “I can wear my own products.”

“Yeah, sure…” The stare didn’t let up.

Kenma sighed, putting his soup to the side table. “If you keep staring at me, I’m going to kick you out. What happened to not agitating the patient?”

Kuroo had the good grace to let his eyes fall, but that meant that his food got the brunt of his sour face.

“You look ugly, Kuroo.”

Kuroo made an affronted noise. “I look perfectly fine!” he protested. “Anyway, why do you have Bokuto’s name over your shoulders?”

Kenma stilled, his hand curling into the hem of the well-worn fabric. “We made them, once.”

“In the PR packet you sent him, right? Aren’t those one of a kind? Don’t tell me you’ve been lying to your kind audience, and you’ve got a private stock somewhere, Kenma. I tried getting one of those Bo shirts for _weeks_."

Glaring, Kenma huffed. “There was only one. You can’t take it when you leave. It’s mine.”

Kuroo seemed placated at that for about five seconds. He went from nodding contentedly to choking and pounding on his chest to dislodge a chunk of food from his throat.

Kenma simply watched him, completely unimpressed.

“Does Bokuto know you lifted the shirt from his closet? How did you even _do that?!”_

Kenma was going to kill his best friend. It would be like putting him out of his misery at this point.

“You can do terrifying things when you have money,” he said vaguely instead. “And, ah,” he reached over to pick his bowl up again, because Kuroo wouldn’t possibly rush him while holding something hot in an open container. He sipped some broth from the rim, holding Kuroo’s eyes as he took his time. “He let me have it. He likes the _boyfriend shirt_ look.” He sipped at his broth, watching Kuroo nod, like it made all the sense in the world.

Oh. Well, this would be a lot easier than Kenma originally thought. He hadn’t really expected him to take the news at face value, but he wasn’t one to look a gift—

_“The boyfriend look?!”_

For the love of God.

-

“Good morning, everyone,” Kenma greeted, one foot up in the seat with him. “I’m a lot better, thanks to everyone asking.” The viewer count slowly grew as he milled about, going through his basic stream greeting. It was his first stream back since he’d been ill. Thankfully he wasn’t down too long after Kuroo last came to visit him.

Now that he was back from the dead, though, Kuroo would be expecting dinner with both him and Bokuto. Kenma was already preparing for the no doubt outrageous level of razzing Kuroo was going to pile on.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” the robotic voice of a dono message chimed through, “the last dono I sent to you was making fun of your forehead, and if you had died on that note, I would have felt guilty forever.”

Kenma hummed, a smile plucking at his mouth “That’s what happens when you cyberbully,” he agreed. “Next time one of you insults my forehead, I will carry through.”

He clicked through, adjusting one setting into the next, pulling up YouTube and setting his PIP into the corner. “We’re doing something small today. Otherwise, I think someone would kick my door in and yell at me to take it easy.”

The chat scrolled by, with people sending greetings as they came in, and suggestions on what “something small,” meant.

“No, we’re not pole dancing today. We are…” He scrolled switched tabs to a preloaded YouTube compilation, “reviewing my high school friend’s volleyball careers. I played all three years of high school, yes. Some of these people have gone on to become professionals, but we’re only looking at their high school performances. First up, we have Fukurodani vs Nekoma.”

-

True to his promise, the stream didn’t last very long. He took a look at a few matches, commentating on what he saw, occasionally putting in some story or another that wasn’t captured on camera.

Swinging between things like, “Everyone thought Kuroo and Bokuto were so cool, but one time Bokuto got his arm stuck in a vending machine, and Kuroo passed out because he couldn’t stop laughing, so… Do with that what you will,” and strictly analytical views, Kenma had a pretty fun time. It was nice to relive some of the memories.

His viewers seemed to have a good time, too. That’s why he was vaguely surprised when he began to see a compilation of clips floating around on Twitter.

 _“I thought kodzuken and Bokuto Koutaru were friends, I didn’t know they had a falling out!!”_ one read, peppered with many frowny faces. Sure enough, the compilations were moments stolen from the stream, but only the bits when he spoke on Bokuto.

There were a few stories about when they were in high school, vague mentions of antics Bokuto would get up to. One clip where Kenma had to roll his eyes to keep from grinning when Bokuto made a particularly skillful spike and almost took Akaashi down in his celebration.

“He’s exhausting,” he told the camera earnestly once, but his tone was warm, posture open and fuck, the look in his eyes was embarrassing. So much pride held for his boyfriend. Koutaru had worked so hard to get where he was, and that was more than a little awe-inspiring.

To him, the video was a disgustingly sweet tell of his attachment to Bokuto.

To the rest of Twitter, the apparent professional relationship between Kozume Kenma and Bokuto Koutaru had been slashed apart, burned, and buried in the woods.

It didn’t help matters that Bokuto retweeted the affair, commenting a simple _He’s so mean to me D’:_ to round off the whole situation.

 _You can’t tell them that, they’ll believe it,_ he warned in a text message with the screenshot attached.

 _Well,,, I can't take it back, they'll think u got to me,_ was his boyfriend's reply. _People will think u bribed me :o_

He _was_ exhausting, sometimes.

Kuroo thought the whole situation was hilarious, and Kenma nearly kicked him out of his living room when Kuroo started gasping for air, too busy with his wheezing laughter and broken jokes to be useful.

"Okay, okay," he shook his hands between them, sucking in a big breath to try and steady himself. “Let’s think about this—”

Kenma scowled at him, arms crossed. “If you’re going to act this way—”

“No, wait, hang on.” He made a show of wiping his tears before sighing, finally getting a proper breathing pattern under his feet. “Why not make another video with him? That way you prove you don’t hate him, _and_ that you civilly can be in the same room as him.”

Kenma’s arms dropped to the side as he actually considered that. “Like a Q&A?”

Kuroo nodded. How in the hell didn’t his hair flop with him, Kenma would never now. “Yeah, you can make a pie while you do it, or something.”

Kenma shook his head, dismissing. “Recording in the kitchen is a hassle.”

-

It took way too long to set up the camera with Bokuto loitering around Kenma's kitchen. At one point, he put music on Kenma's sound system and insisted they _dance._

Kenma was already ready to strangle him. He didn't know how he was going to last another two hours like this. Bokuto danced. _He_ danced and failed to drag Kenma in, because he was too busy wiring the mics along the counter top.

"Aren't you worried about flour getting on your equipment?" Bokuto asked. He was on the counter now, kicking his heels against the cabinets in a rhythm.

Kenma sent him a little look. "Are you planning on throwing flour all over my stuff?"

"Of course not!"

"Then we should be fine."

Bokuto pulled him into the V of his legs then, and Kenma allowed him a few minute's distraction, if it meant Bokuto would kiss him like _that_. He pulled back from Kenma after a long moment, thumbing over his bottom lip. The grin on his mouth was bordering on smug, and Kenma pushed his face away with the flat of his palm. "You wanted me here," he grouched, "you could at least kiss me."

"Your mouth is red," Bokuto told him. "Don't want anybody to assume we were up to anything scandalous in here, huh?"

Kenma's nose scrunched up, and he nodded with a sigh. He reached up to press a kiss to Bokuto's jaw before pulling away. "If I see anything questionable on Twitter, I am holding you responsible."

Bokuto saluted him, looking much too smug at the idea.

Within a few more minutes, it was all ready, and they were good to go.

"This looks excessive," Bokuto noted, looking much too scared to touch anything.

"It's production value."

"Ah."

They meddled around for the first few minutes as they tried to figure out if they had everything they needed. Bokuto hung out on the side for now, until Kenma was ready to properly begin the video. He was scrolling through his phone, but Kenma was pretty sure he was still looking through the recipe Shouyo had sent them.

"Bokuto, come stand by this counter," Kenma bade him. Bokuto looked up with raised eyebrows and a hum, but he planted himself right where Kenma directed. He raised his phone, as if to take a picture, and Bokuto grinned at him. His hand curled into a fist, and propped it under his chin, looking cute in his stupid charm. Kenma snapped a photo, but when he looked at it, his stomach swooped. He raised his phone for another one, saying "Don't look. Go back to what you were doing."

Bokuto obediently dropped his chin and scrolled through his phone. He had one ankle crossed over the other, his feet were bare and he looked completely comfortable in Kenma's space.

He saved the photo to be posted later, when the video was ready to go up. The caption would be something like _come watch @bokuto_koutaru get banned from my house after he fucks up my kitchen_ , and cross posted on the appropriate socials.

Okay. They were gonna do this. He made one more run through, made sure the audio was, in fact, running, and that was it.

He'd never really been nervous about a video before. This was new, and not entirely welcome. But he pushed it to the side. He could do this just fine.

"Everyone, " he said, his hands together in front of his chest. Bokuto popped his head out of the fridge, and Kenma finally realized that the older man wasn't actually by his side. He glowered at him, waving his hand to their set-up. "Koutarou," he muttered, flicking his eyes to the side.

"Oh!" Bokuto let the fridge door swing shut and he bounded back to Kenma, his hands propped up on his hips like he had to be the biggest person in the room. With just him and Kenma in the kitchen, there wasn't much competition. "Hi everybody!" he exclaimed, waving to where he could see himself in the viewfinder.

Kenma nudged him, nodding to the lens. "Up there," he reminded him.

"Oh. Fuck, right." He stopped short. "Can I say that? Like, curses? I know you do sometimes, but—"

Kenma blinked up at him. "Are you, perchance, afraid of losing certain sponsorships?"

Bokuto laughed, full and bright, and Kenma had to twist away to fiddle with a bowl to keep from blowing their cover too early.

"Everyone." There was silence, as expected. Bokuto looked at him, ready to follow his lead. "This is Bokuto Koutarou. Lately, everyone thinks I want him dead. If all goes according to how I think it's going to, by the end, I won't be the only one." With an obstinate cry, Bokuto whipped to look solely at Kenma. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he looked _firmly_ ahead, avoiding Bokuto's eyes, because he knew he would break if he saw his stupidly cute expression. "We're making apple pie and answering questions from the discord."

"Can the first question be why you're so mean to me?" Bokuto whined, his shoulders shrugging in Kenma's peripherals.

"It'll probably be one of the first," Kenma affirmed. "For now, can you get me that tablet? I loaded up the recipe Shouyo sent us."

Bokuto went to do just that as Kenma squinted at his phone screen. "I didn't pre-select these," he mused. "But they're in the channel bank. It was cleared out by one of our mods, so thank you. Mm, thank you, Bokuto." After he tucked his phone in his pocket, he took the tablet and navigated to the recipe. "Did you wash the apples?"

"Yeah, lemme—"

Kenma switched apps, squinting at the screen. "The first question is pretty close, actually." He cleared his throat, looking between Koutarou and the camera.

"Oh yeah?" Bokuto had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, wrist deep in the sink basin. He shook the last apple into the sink, and took up a dish towel. Kenma couldn't help but trace the line of his forearms with his eyes. Bokuto lifted his head to make eye contact with him, raising his eyebrows.

Kenma snapped back to his tablet, trying to not let his cheeks go red. He could already feel the tips of his ears _burning_. "Yeah." They needed to end this as soon as possible. Why couldn't they have just played Mario Kart? He was going to kill Kuroo for even _suggesting_ pie. "It says 'was there a falling out between you two? You don't work together often anymore, and the first time you've mentioned Bokuto in a long time was with such vitriol.'" He scrunched his nose up. "Vitriol? Really?" He looked over his shoulder to Bokuto, leaning his hand against the cabinet. "Bokuto, do you want to answer it?"

Koutarou brought the bowl of apples over and set them next to Kenma's hand. "Uh, I guess. Do we need to peel these?" Kenma nodded, and went to go dig through a drawer. He came back with a vegetable peeler that Bokuto took with a smile. "Okay, so. I don't think we've... Ever fought. We haven't right?"

"Not on the business side of things." He busied himself with gathering the needed ingredients for the pie crust. He'd made this before. Sort of. He'd made the scrap version that they baked on its own while Shouyo made the one that lined the pie.

"Right! So we've never fought. And when we fight personally, it’s always quickly resolved. As for the reason we haven't worked together recently..." He rolled a shoulder, making a face like a fish. There was a sloppy sound as he began peeling the skin off the apple. "We're busy, I guess? I've been training, he's been... Kozu, what have you been up to? Can I say?"

Kenma shook his head. "Better not."

Bokuto gave him a thumbs up. "So Kenma has also been busy! There's a lot to do for the two prettiest people in our industry!"

Snorting, Kenma shook his head. "We aren't in the same industry."

"I could do Twitch."

"Sure you could."

"What? Scared I'll swoop in and take your supporters?"

Unloading his armload of ingredients onto the counter, Kenma shot him a look. "It may come as a surprise to you, but some people can support two things at once."

"Impossible."

"Sometimes, our brains can hold two ideas."

"I'm calling bullshit."

They stared at each other for a moment. Bokuto's face was set into something stubborn, with his eyes narrowed. There was a twitch at the corner of Kenma's mouth, and he was quick to break after that. Kenma laughed behind his wrist, and Bokuto grinned down at him, his hands propped up on his waist like he'd done something to be proud of.

"How much memory is on your memory card?" he asked.

"Plenty, I think. I just emptied it."

"And you're going to edit it later?"

"Why are you asking a thousand questions? You're going to make this take so much longer." Kenma snapped the lid off of the container of chilled butter, looking up to Bokuto. Bokuto put his things down and turned his body towards Kenma. He hadn't even realized they were standing so close. He had to crane his neck to look up at him.

"Can I kiss you?"

 _"Oh."_ Kenma's eyelashes fluttered, and he lifted himself up on his tip-toes to kiss him. "If you get apple juice on me, I'm kicking you out."

Bokuto hummed against his lips, "Yeah, I bet so."

-

The video came together slowly. Kenma was wary that it was going to show up on film, some kind of evidence of their distraction. Whether from beforehand, or the impromptu kisses in between. Of which there were _many_. Kenma would be lying if he said Bokuto was the only one that couldn't keep his hands to himself.

He had half a mind to ask Kuroo if they were truly that insufferable to watch from an outsider’s perspective. As soon as the urge crossed his mind, though, he shut it down. He could already see the expression he would wear, and Kenma would rather die than be subject to that kind of razzing.

The rest of the video went surprisingly well, save the part when Bokuto _did_ get flour everywhere, and they got too distracted and the crust came out odd because the butter had gone too soft. The questions were easy, and if for nothing else, people were going to fall for Bokuto’s charm in front of the camera.

That and, you know, Bokuto in general. Everything from his dumb jokes, to the look of him all dressed up in a yellow floral apron, to the looks he gave Kenma when he wasn’t looking (or forgot he was being recorded) made Kenma’s heart feel like it had been put in a compression sleeve and twirled around a bit. Everything was so soft, and... _domestic._ That was another reason why it was so slow going. Kenma had to force himself not to get embarrassed just _editing_ the stupid video. 

He posted it late one night before slinking off to bed, tucking himself alongside a sleepy Bokuto, who opened his arms wide to welcome him.

-

When Kuroo forwarded him another Twitter thread, Kenma read the beginning tweet before lobbing the phone across the couch.

 _after seeing @kodzuken’s newest video, i understand. kodzuken wasn’t roasting @bokuto_koutarou on stream at all. he was Flirting._ _  
_ _i present to you: kodzuken absolutely thirsting over BoKou for four minutes straight_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/bardicyearning)


End file.
